The room fell silent. For the first time, Orion didn’t have a snappy comeback ready. The question seemed to hit a nerve, his expression hardening as he mulled it over.

‘What am I, really?’

He thought back to the man he once was—ordinary, unremarkable. Human. But now? With the Void System pulsing through him, with the ability to transform into a creature that even nightmares would fear, was he still human? Or had he crossed a line he couldn’t return from?

The weight of the question hung in the air. Natasha and Coulson exchanged uneasy glances. The kind of man who needed to think about whether he was human was not the kind of man you wanted to upset.

"Does it matter?" Orion said finally, his voice colder than ever. "Human or not, I’m the one you came to. What I am isn’t as important as what I can do. And trust me, Director Fury, you can’t afford to make me your enemy."

Fury nodded slowly, recognizing the truth in those words. "Fair enough. But if we’re going to work together, I’ll need to know more about what you can do—and what you want in return."

Orion’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "What I want?" He leaned forward, his presence filling the room. "That’s easy. I want to see if this little game of yours is worth my time."

The room was suffocatingly silent, every breath thick with tension as all eyes stayed glued on Orion. No one dared to speak. Nick Fury, Natasha Romanoff, and Agent Coulson knew they were walking a precarious tightrope. One wrong step, one ill-timed word, and they might trigger something far worse than the awkwardness of this tense standoff: Orion's wrath.

The figure before them wasn’t just a man. No, the sheer power radiating from him, combined with the unnatural agelessness in his features, made it painfully clear—he was far more Void than human.

And he wasn’t even denying it anymore.

"I come from the Void," Orion announced, his voice carrying the weight of truth, wrapped in a blanket of chilling calm.

That was all it took. Fury’s one good eye sharpened like a hawk spotting a storm, while Natasha and Coulson instinctively reached for their weapons. They stopped midway, though, remembering Orion's earlier warning: ‘Try me, and you’ll regret it.’

For a brief moment, the air hung still, thick with suspense. Then, as if on cue, a cold, mechanical voice slithered into Orion’s mind:

[Host has stopped lying to themselves. Acknowledging one’s will and existence confirmed. System is now fully operational. Functions unlocked.]

Orion blinked, his calm mask slipping for a fraction of a second. ‘Well, took you long enough,’ he thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the dramatic timing. The system had been dormant for two long years, its activation as elusive as a ghost. He had figured it was tied to his reluctance to embrace his Void heritage. But now, after Fury's blunt question about his race, he’d finally acknowledged it. No more pretending to be the human he once was.

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Nick Fury, on the other hand, was busy recalibrating his worldview. The man—or alien, apparently—he’d thought was just a dangerously overpowered mercenary wasn’t human at all. Void race. The words rang ominously in Fury’s mind, making him question everything he thought he knew about the universe—and about Earth’s precarious place in it.

"So," Fury began, his voice measured and carefully neutral, "this Void background of yours. Care to share why you’re here on Earth?"

Orion didn’t miss a beat, replying with a smoothness that could butter toast. "Oh, you know, sightseeing. Experiencing the vibrant culture. Checking out the beaches." His tone was so casual it was borderline insulting.

Fury’s expression didn’t change, but Natasha’s lips twitched as if she was suppressing a laugh—or maybe a groan. Coulson, bless his soul, actually looked like he believed him for a second before quickly masking his gullibility.

"Since you’re feeling so chatty," Fury pressed, ignoring the flippant response, "why don’t we have a real conversation? No cryptic nonsense. Just straight talk."

"Aren’t we talking now?" Orion quipped, tilting his head slightly, his tone dripping with faux innocence.

Fury didn’t rise to the bait, but the tiny vein pulsing near his temple betrayed his annoyance. Adjusting his eye patch like he was gearing up for a fight he knew he couldn’t win, he forced a thin smile. "Fine. Let’s start with something simple: What’s your purpose here?"

Orion shrugged lazily. "I told you. Tourism."

The room fell silent again, but this time, the tension was punctuated by a collective ‘are you kidding me?’ look from Fury’s team.

Realizing they weren’t getting anywhere with that line of questioning, Fury shifted tactics. "Alright, forget Earth for a second. What about the bigger picture? The universe. Alien civilizations. How advanced are they compared to us? Are we on their radar?"

Orion leaned against the wall, his casual stance at odds with the weight of the question. "The universe is a big place, Director," he said, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. "It’s full of intelligent species—some of them terrifyingly advanced. Space travel? Interstellar weapons? Technology that would make your brightest scientists cry? Yeah, they’ve got all that."

Fury nodded slowly, his mind already spinning with implications. "And Earth? Are we... in danger?"

"Not right now," Orion said, waving a hand dismissively. "But you’re not exactly hidden, either. Earth’s been on the radar of certain species for a while now—Kree, Skrulls, you name it. Lucky for you, there’s been a deterrent keeping them at bay."

"A deterrent?" Fury repeated, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah," Orion said nonchalantly. "Odin. The Asgardians have been playing intergalactic babysitter for centuries. They keep the peace, more or less. But..." He paused, letting the weight of the unfinished sentence linger.

"But what?" Coulson asked, his voice tight.

Orion smirked, his tone turning almost teasing. "But it won’t last forever. Everything ends eventually—even godly protection plans."

The silence that followed was deafening, each agent processing the bombshell in their own way. Fury’s poker face held strong, but internally, he was scrambling to rethink everything. Natasha and Coulson exchanged a glance, their usually unflappable composure visibly shaken.

Finally, Fury broke the silence. "So, what now?"

Orion pushed off the wall, his movements fluid and unhurried. "Now? Now you decide what to do with all this information. But let me give you a little advice." He turned toward the door, pausing just before stepping out. "Be careful what you wish for, Director. The universe is watching."

Nick Fury frown, the dim light from his office lamp casting a shadow across his face. He had just heard Orion—the so-called “God of Death”—casually drop some cosmic-level knowledge about the Kree, Skrulls, and, oh yeah, the potential death of Odin. No big deal, just another Tuesday for Fury.

"So, let me get this straight," Fury said, his voice steady but carrying that unmistakable edge of 'What fresh hell is this?’ "Our human myths and legends… they’re real? And all this time, the Asgardian been playing secret space babysitters for Earth?"